Summer in Good Hope (A Good Hope Novel Book 2) (17 page)

With careful deliberateness, Max took the card from her hand. He laid it and the deck aside, then pulled her tightly against him. For several seconds they simply sat there, the only sound the gentle whir of the ceiling fan.

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” he said finally. “How about I order a pizza?”

“Green and black olives? Extra cheese?” On the trip to Milwaukee eons ago, all the other mathletes they’d hung around with had been into boring hamburger or equally boring pepperoni. Which meant they’d had a whole pie to themselves.

Max grinned. “Is there any other combination?”

C
hapter
S
eventeen

It was nearly nine o’clock on Saturday morning before Prim and Max rolled out of bed. After a long shower, where Prim got an up-close-and-personal look at Max’s ass as well as another favorite body part, he made breakfast.

She’d been prepared to cook. After all, it was something she’d done daily for the past ten years. But Max insisted she sit, enjoy her coffee, and admire his stellar ass.

The last part made her chuckle. With coffee cup in hand and clad only in one of his shirts, Prim called and spoke with her sons. After ending the call, she watched him expertly flip a pancake.

“You’ll make a wonderful husband someday.” The second the words left her mouth, Prim wished she could call them back.

Max simply smiled and flipped another cake.

Perhaps this wasn’t a particularly sensitive subject, after all. “I’m surprised some pretty young thing hasn’t snatched you up.”

“My mother thinks I’m too particular.” He chuckled. “Considering she’s never found a man who comes close to her memories of my father, it’s a strange thing for her to say.”

Prim, as well as most of the other people in Good Hope, was aware of Vanessa Eden’s history. She’d married Brian Brody at nineteen. Max had been born a year later when Brian, who’d enlisted in the military, was overseas. Max had been only four when his father was killed in Bosnia.

“Is that why you don’t want children?”

Max paused, spatula in hand. “I want kids.”

Prim frowned. “You said you didn’t date women with children.”

“The missing word is
casually
date.” He returned his attention to the bacon. “I never wanted to be the guy who is in and out of a child’s life. I know, from personal experience, how hard that can be on a kid.”

Prim’s admiration for him inched up another notch. She’d watched many of her divorced friends in Milwaukee deal with their heartbroken children as well as their own heartache when a relationship ended.

“That’s one of the reasons I’d vowed not to date until the boys were grown,” Prim told him.

Max turned off the griddle and the frying pan. He slipped the pancakes onto two plates, his gaze focused on the food. “A serious relationship between two people well suited would be different.”

His tone was nonchalant as he placed the plate of eggs, bacon, and several pancakes in front of her.

Prim waited until he’d taken the seat across the table from her before she reached over and took his hand. “I agree with that, too.”

When his fingers curved around hers and his thumb caressed her palm, Prim let out the breath she’d been holding.

As if he was finding as much comfort in the touch as she was, Max didn’t immediately release her hand . . . and she didn’t pull back. They’d made love this morning in the shower and late last night again before they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms. For some reason, this felt as intimate as when their bodies were fully joined.

Finally, he gave her hand a squeeze and released it. “We better eat before it gets cold.”

“Talk to me, Max.” Prim lifted a crisp slice of bacon to her mouth but kept her eyes on him. “Are you interested in dating me?”

He met her gaze. “Naw, I just want to have sex with you.”

Her lids flew wide and her fork fell from her numb fingers into the syrup-drenched pancakes.

“Just kidding.” Max grinned and rose to get her another fork. His smile had already faded by the time he held it out. “You’ve made it clear how you feel about dating before the boys are out of high school.”

Prim took the fork from his hand with fingers that trembled slightly. Setting the utensil down, she laced her fingers tightly together. “That’s how I felt when I moved here. I thought that was best for the twins and for me.” She’d spoken in the past tense, and a slight flicker of his lashes told her he’d noticed.

With a sober expression, he leaned forward, his gaze firmly fixed on hers. “I guess the question is, what do you want now?”

Max had placed the decision regarding their future at her feet. Whatever she decided would not only reflect her intelligent assessment of the situation but her guts. Prim knew it took just as strong an intestinal fortitude to walk away from a situation as it did to stay.

She wondered briefly if Rory had ever gotten this feeling when he was ready to rappel off a high peak. A moment of terror mixed with heady anticipation.

Still, she wasn’t impulsive. When she’d initially decided not to date, it was so she could give her full attention to her sons. The question was, would the boys suffer if she had a relationship with Max? They liked him, wanted to be around him, and all indications were those positive feeling went both ways.

For Prim, being around Deb recently had brought the woman’s overinvolvement in her son’s life front and center. That kind of helicopter parenting hadn’t been healthy for Deb or for Rory. Such a relationship wouldn’t be healthy for Callum and Connor, either.

Watching her intently, Max took a long sip of coffee.

“I’d like to date you,” Prim blurted out as if she’d just decided to throw caution to the winds instead of making a logical, rational decision. “I’d like to give it, give us, a chance.”

“What about the boys?” The smile that had begun to slowly spread didn’t hide the worry in his eyes.

“Callum and Connor like you. You’re their neighbor, their coach, their grandfather’s friend. For now, it doesn’t have to be more complicated for them than that.”

He reached across the table to cover her hand with his. “I won’t let them be hurt.”

“
We
won’t let them be hurt,” Prim said firmly. “We’ll take this dating thing slow and easy.”

“Slow and easy can be fun.” There was a devilish twinkle in his eyes.

Prim only rolled her eyes.

Max shoveled in some eggs, chewed thoughtfully, then chuckled. “Do you realize we just made a major decision without utilizing a spreadsheet and reviewing all the data?”

Stabbing a bite of pancake, Prim couldn’t stop a grin. “We didn’t even negotiate terms.”

His expression turned serious. “Do you have any nonnegotiables?”

Prim chewed, considered. “Ah, no sleeping together when the boys are in the house.”

He waited several heartbeats.

“Let me make sure I have this straight.” He took a sip of coffee. “We’ll keep having sex but we’ll refrain from tearing off each other’s clothing when there are children in the house?”

“That’s the nonnegotiable.”

“Makes sense.” He paused. “Ah, I’m not sure if you noticed, but they’re not in the house now.”

When a hungry look filled his eyes that had nothing to do with food, Prim knew once again they were on the same wavelength.

“I was thinking of starting the day with a card game.”

Max groaned. “I’m going to kill my mother.”

“No. No. No.” Prim waved an airy hand in the air. “This game is one I know you’ll like.”

He lifted a brow.

“Poker.”

His eyes lit up. “I like—”

“Strip poker.”

His grin was broad and wide. “Now you’re talking.”

Max rose.

She motioned him down. “After breakfast.”

He dropped into his chair with a disappointed thunk. Picking up his fork, he gazed across the table at her. “Do you even know how to play?”

“You’ll soon find out.” This time it was her turn to grin. “Now I have a question for you.”

“Fire away.”

She pointed with her fork. “Do you want that last piece of bacon?”

Over the next hour, Max saw a different side of Primrose Bloom. This crazy, fun-loving side was one he’d caught only brief glimpses of in the past.

The first time had been when she was ten and someone—he couldn’t even remember who—had brought a bag of chocolate-covered crickets to school. None of the girls would try them . . . except for Prim. She’d eaten one, pronounced it delicious, then eaten several more. When she’d caught him staring, she’d given him a saucy smile and eaten another.

At that moment he’d fallen hopelessly in love. Hopeless because, even back then, she’d been Rory’s girl.

“Your play, Brody.”

Max glanced at the cards in his hand. He was down to his boxer shorts. She still wore all her clothes, including one of his jackets, zipped up to her chin.

Max had been confident that jacket would be off by now and he’d be working hard on getting her to take off whatever was underneath.

“Four of a kind.” He spread the cards on the table, showing four kings.

Her lips quirked up in a half smile.

Darn. She’d beaten him again.

She showed him her hand, tilted her head. “Remind me. Does that”—she pointed to his cards, then to her own—“beat this?”

“Thank you, God.”

Prim’s brows drew together. “What did you say?”

“I said, four of a kind beats a full house.”

“Oh.” She smiled brightly. “Does that mean it’s time for me to take something off?”

“That’s exactly what it means. Take off the jacket,” Max suggested. “You have to be warm.”

“Good suggestion.” As she fumbled with the zipper, Max wondered how many layers would be revealed underneath.

Two or three, he decided. At least two.

Though the fastener didn’t appear to be stuck, she raised her hands and looked beseechingly at him. “Can you help me?”

Pushing back his chair, Max rose and rounded the table. By the time he reached her, she was on her feet and waiting for him. “Thank you, Max.”

“My pleasure.”

She smelled like his shampoo and he found himself wanting her again. But first he had to win enough hands to rid her of all her clothes.

The zipper slid down easily, and when the jacket gaped open he realized that she wasn’t wearing a shirt—or anything else—beneath it.

“You-you’re naked.” His gaze lingered on her breasts, on those erect nipples surrounded by a dusky peach color.

“Not yet.” She shrugged and the jacket fell and pooled at her feet. “I hope to be soon.”

“Let’s play another hand.”

“I’m tired of cards.” Prim gazed up at him through lowered lashes. “I can think of a better way to spend our time together.”

No, this was not the Primrose he thought he knew. As he scooped her into his arms to carry her to bed and she shrieked with laughter, he wondered just what other secrets he would discover this weekend.

By Sunday night, Max was a goner.

Despite his earlier agreement, he realized he didn’t want to take things slow. He wanted to walk down the street holding Prim’s hand. He wanted to wake up, like he had the past two mornings, with her beside him in bed. He wanted to sit across the dinner table from her and talk. Not only about sudoku and magic squares but about her thoughts and feelings.

He liked that family mattered to her. That had been evident last night. Marigold had unexpectedly called and Prim had taken an hour to console her baby sister.

Prim stood at the counter now, tossing a salad, humming while she worked. Love washed over him in a tidal wave of emotion.

Marigold called again just as he finished seasoning the steaks for the grill. He’d lingered on the patio longer than necessary, wanting to give them some privacy.

Prim was off the phone and adding slivered almonds and mandarin oranges to the romaine when he stuck his head in the door. Opening the door fully, he stepped inside.